


Untitled

by youngho (eexiee)



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Crushes, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-07
Updated: 2016-05-07
Packaged: 2018-06-06 23:20:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6774319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eexiee/pseuds/youngho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They'd agreed not to read online comments, but Taeyong can't help himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Untitled

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure where this came from but I had an itch to write Jaeyong so this happened and I'm not entirely happy with it but I needed to get it out of my hair so voila. Crossposted to LJ [here.](http://eexiee.livejournal.com/41665.html) Translated to Russian [here](https://ficbook.net/readfic/4366368thank).

When Yoonoh comes home from an evening walk along the Han, the entire dorm smells strongly of Meadows and Rain Febreze. He sighs, taking off his shoes and leaving them in the pile by the door. 

He walks across the dorm, the scent of Febreze still heavy in the air and it’s breaking Yoonoh’s heart because he knows what this means. Taeyong loves his Febreze, but this is excessive, and and excessive Febreze always means that Taeyong is stressed. Yoonoh’s stressed too; all of them are, but it’s a little bit harder on Taeyong than it is for the rest of them. 

As he approaches Taeyong’s bedroom door, he hears shuffling inside the room. Taeyong must be cleaning again. He does that a lot when he’s trying to get his mind off things. Yoonoh knocks. 

“Hyung? Can I come in?” Yoonoh asks gingerly, and he hears a muffled “sure” from his teammate. Yoonoh turns the doorknob, pushing it open and to no surprise, the room is completely organized and pristine. It’s always like this, and Yoonoh doesn’t know how Taeyong can keep cleaning when everything is always in a perpetual state of spotlessness. 

Taeyong is on the ground in front of a pile of shirts, and he turns around to look up at Yoonoh. Yoonoh cocks his head to the side. “What are you doing?” he asks. 

“I thought it would be good to organize my shirts by color and style,” Taeyong replies, pointedly not making eye contact. 

“But aren’t most of your shirts black?” Yoonoh points out, and Taeyong shrugs. He turns back to the pile of shirts, putting the one in his hand down. He stares at the pile, and even though all Yoonoh can see is Taeyong’s back, it’s enough to know that he’s dejected, and it hurts Yoonoh to see him that way. “Hyung,” he says gingerly. “Have you been reading comments online again?”

“Yeah,” Taeyong replies, still not facing Yoonoh. 

“I thought we decided not to do that,” Yoonoh says, and he sits down next to Taeyong on the ground. He puts an arm around his _hyung_ , hoping that it’ll comfort him even a little bit. 

“I know,” Taeyong replies. “But I just...wanted to see…”

“Hyung, there will always be people who hate all of us and that’s just a fact. We can’t do anything but be our best selves and hope that it will change their minds, but if it doesn’t, we just have to let them be.”

Taeyong faces Yoonoh, stress lines etched into his face. “But Yoonoh, I fucked up. I fucked up and nobody is just going to forget it. I can’t just pretend it didn’t happen and I deserve what they’re saying and -”

“No,” Yoonoh cuts him off. “No you don’t. You messed up, sure. But if people can’t let you move on after all this time, knowing how remorseful you are and seeing how many times you’ve sincerely apologized, then they’re the problem, not you.”

“It’s easy to say that…” Taeyong trails off, heaving a sigh at the end of his sentence. “I hate it so much. I hate it.”

“Hyung. I love you,” Yoonoh says quietly, pulling Taeyong close. And it’s true; he does. They always throw those words around casually, all of them, but Yoonoh means them from the bottom of his heart. He hopes Taeyong understands. 

But Taeyong is quiet, letting himself be held by Yoonoh. Taeyong does this sometimes. He gets sullen and melancholy and no amounts of joking or _aegyo_ from the younger boys can help him. But Yoonoh hopes that maybe...maybe really showing Taeyong how much he’s loved can help. 

“Keep fighting,” Yoonoh whispers. “You’re strong.”

“You are too,” Taeyong responds ever so softly. “Thank you, Yoonoh.” And then Yoonoh feels Taeyong’s lips meet his neck, just barely brushing the skin, but it’s unmistakably a kiss and a tingle runs up Yoonoh’s spine. Yoonoh pulls back, looking at Taeyong with interest, and Taeyong’s eyes go wide, a pink flush forming on his cheeks. “I - I’m sorry - I didn’t -”

“Don’t doubt yourself,” Yoonoh insists, gripping Taeyong’s hand tightly. “Don’t doubt yourself!” He leans forward, pecking Taeyong on the lips quickly. “You deserve the best things in life, okay?” Yoonoh says, embarrassment finally catching up with him. 

“You’re the best,” Taeyong says, and when Yoonoh looks back up at him, Taeyong is smiling. He’s finally smiling a beautiful, big smile that looks completely free of worry and strife. 

Yoonoh smiles back.


End file.
